


The Lustful Warden: Warm Gelatine Pudding

by orphan_account



Series: The Lustful Warden [2]
Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Implied Sexual Content, Older Woman/Younger Man
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-12
Updated: 2014-08-12
Packaged: 2018-02-12 21:44:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2125683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The purposely vague Warden gets drunk and stumbles into bed with an unlikely, but very eager partner.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Warm Gelatine Pudding

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Wynne's banter with Alistair when returning to Ostagar. Warning: might get icky.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wynne shows her true colours. They're a very deep shade of slut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before you start squealing and getting your knickers in a twist, Alistair and Zevran are only hinted at. If you didn't read this, you forfeit the right to complain. About everything.

### Warm Gelatine Pudding

I don't think drinking all this ale was such a good idea, though we did deserve it after curing Arl Eamon. At least I'm not as inebriated as Alistair; he breaks into silly giggling fits at the drop of a hat. Over the course of the evening, Zevran has moved closer and closer to him. Now he's practically sitting on the other Warden's lap, cautiously stroking his thigh. He just lets him. I'm quite sure that by the end of this night, Alistair will be a virgin no longer. He probably wasn't planning on experiencing his first time with a lecherous male elf, drunk out of his wits. Boy, is he going to be flustered when he wakes up.

Ah, reminds me of the time I lost my own virginity. I still have no idea who was responsible; if I did, I'd have sent the lady a gift. Myself, naked, with a big ribbon tied around my waist. Only random images remain of that first time. Messy blonde curls; an ample bosom; a voluptuous behind; a beautiful pink slit hovering above my face; tight, moist flesh enveloping my cock; high-pitched moans of pleasure. Sadly I also remember coming in about six seconds flat. _Very_ embarrassing.

I get up from my position by the campfire. "Well, boys, you two enjoy yourselves."

"Perhaps you would like to join us in the fun," Zevran suggests with a wicked grin on his face.

Alistair blinks a few times, his look puzzled. "What fun? What are we going to do?"

"Oh, you'll see." The elf chuckles and traces our virgin's lips with his fingers. The Warden stares at his suitor with eyes like saucers, blushing furiously.

One might ask me: "Why don't you stop Zevran from taking advantage of poor Alistair?" Well, first, my fellow Warden is a big boy and he can take care of himself. Second: alcohol doesn't really make us do things we don't want to do; it just takes away inhibitions. And judging from the way those two are devouring each other now, I'd say that Ser Pure-As-The-Driven-Snow _wants_ the elf to ravish him. Badly.

"Are you sure you don't want to join us?" the Antivan asks me between kisses.

I shake my head. "No, I'm not nearly drunk enough for that. Goodnight, Zev." I can't help but laugh at the other Warden's enthusiasm. "Goodnight, Alistair." They are both too busy to make a reply. Ah, this could be the start of something beautiful. Or an abundance of awkwardness.

As I stumble to my tent, I run into Wynne. Maybe it's because of all the alcohol I consumed, but now I don't see the well-preserved old woman that she is, but the gorgeous woman she no doubt was twenty years ago. A statuesque beauty. I don't know what it is that fascinates me so about older women. Probably that they've had enough time to know exactly what they like and how they like it. Young women like Morrigan are all well and fine, but they still lack the self-confidence they would get when they age. Nevertheless, I've never had the pleasure of bedding one of these experienced ladies. Yet.

"Are you alright, my dear?" Wynne asks, her voice concerned. Her hand is resting on my arm, her blue eyes scanning my face. I was actually planning on spending the night with my lovely witch, but perhaps the aged enchantress would be willing... Variety is the spice of life, as they say.

"I-I think I need some help getting to my tent." My voice sounds awful, like my tongue is twice as thick as it should be. I'm drunker than I'd thought.

Wynne chuckles amusedly. "Of course. Lean on me." And so I lay my arm around her shoulders and let her guide me to my tent. "It would seem that those two are getting along very well," she remarks with a sidelong glance at the pair near the fire.

"Oh, yes." I snicker under my breath. " _Very_ well." There might even be some blood on the driven snow tonight. Unless Zev is going to be on the receiving end. Inside the older woman deposits me on my bedroll and backs out of the tent, wishing me a good night's rest. "Wyyynne," I whine. "Could you help me undress?" I put on the adorable puppy eyes I know some women can't resist.

Apparently the woman in question isn't one of them. Instead of just giving in to my request, she clicks her tongue. "Young man, you should be perfectly able to undress yourself."

"Please?" I pull up my shirt and manage to get my head stuck. At least, to make it look so. "Help!" Perhaps she fancies a male damsel-in-distress better. I'm flexible like that.

Two delicate hands accompanied by the sound of laughter free me of my predicament. "So obviously you cannot undress yourself." The mage's gentle voice is laced with barely contained glee. I have to say, in the light of the campfire that falls through the opening of my tent, she looks absolutely breathtaking. So breathtaking that something is coming alive in my pants.

"Told you so. Help me, please?" Another pleading look, and Wynne shakes her head in amusement.

"Fine, I will help you. But just this once." She wags her finger at me, chastising. Hmm, a stern mistress, another one of my fantasies. Two birds with one stone.

Quickly the woman pulls off my boots and socks, throwing them outside. When her fingers curve around the edge of my pants to take them off, she pauses. "Well, well. What have we here?" Her voice carries a tone of approval as her fingers brush my erection.

"There's a party in my pants and you're invited!" I blurt out. Oh crap, did I actually say that out loud? From the way my conquest-to-be is rolling on the floor laughing, I'd say that yes, I did. Shit.

Wiping the tears out of her eyes, she says: "Oh my. Does that line work for you very often?"

"Well, no." I fold my hands behind my head and puff out my chest. "I've never been drunk enough to actually use it. Still, you're welcome to join the festivities."

The enchantress' eyes trail across my bare skin with half-veiled interest. "You do realize that I am old enough to be your grandmother, don't you?"

"Frankly my dear, I don't give a damn." My hand reaches out to stroke her cheek. Though her silver hair indicates her advanced age, her skin is quite smooth, the only truly visible lines in her forehead and around her eyes.

In one fluid motion, Wynne removes the ribbon that keeps her hair trapped in that boring ponytail and shakes it loose. It falls around her shoulders as a wild mane. Well, I'm sober now. I have a thing for women with their hair down, obviously. Her fingers slowly undo the clasps that keep her robes closed, revealing a bountiful cleavage. My pants are getting awfully tight here.

"I think I will take you up on your invitation," the woman purrs, crawling over me on hands and knees like a feral cat.

My arms wind around her waist to pull her close. "Then let the celebrations begin." I flash her a charming smile.

The lady wastes no time in sticking her tongue into my mouth; she tastes of mint. Her hand busily rubs my hard cock through the fabric of my pants before just diving in and firmly stroking me. I gasp in surprise; damn, she's more forward than one would think. Apparently this dignified woman is a crazy sex-fiend. All the better.

"Naughty boy," she murmurs into my ear. "Hiding this from me all this time..." Every word is punctuated with a slight squeeze to my erection. "I think you should be punished." With a seductive, naughty smile she sits up and begins undoing her robes from ankles to crotch. Underneath are sheer black stockings and equally sheer lacy panties. Wow. I bet Alistair would have a heart attack if he found out his surrogate mother was such a wanton strumpet.

Wynne firmly plants her knees on either side of my head, granting me a luxurious view of her gauze-covered snatch. Suddenly the garment falls onto my face, the ties on the side undone. I toss it to the side after briefly sniffing it. Mmm. "Well then, young man. Start licking and don't stop until I am satisfied," the mage commands and sits on my face.

Aw yeah, she's going with the mistress approach! "Yes, ma'am," I mumble into her flesh. I dip my tongue between her wet lips, savouring the taste. Somehow I thought that an older woman would taste remarkably different from a young one, but this isn't the case. Not that I'm disappointed. All of a sudden I feel her hand grabbing my hair and pulling my head upwards. Fine, I can take a hint. The lady knows what she wants.

Her pulsating clit feels extraordinarily large against my tongue; it might just be the largest one I've encountered yet. As soon as I begin licking it, Wynne squirms and moans softly. What more encouragement could I need? I increase the speed and intensity of my licks, making her squirm more ferociously. Her breathing becomes quick and shallow, her hand pulling my hair so hard it hurts. Soon her entire body pulls taut like a bowstring and all I hear is a long, deep breath escaping the woman's mouth. The only thing indicative of her climax is the fact that she's riding my face like a fucking pony.

I give her my most innocent look when she moves off of me, leaving my face wet with her juices. "Have I pleased you, mistress?"

She smiles down on me. "You certainly did. In fact," she pats my head, "you have been such a good boy, I've decided to give you a little treat."

"A treat?" I gasp happily. "Yay!"

Her smile promising, the silver-haired enchantress moves backwards and halts between my legs. A humming noise escapes her as she frees my cock from its prison. Freedom at last. She chuckles when it jumps out at her, and _takes her teeth out of her mouth_. What the _fuck_?

But when she bends down and wraps her lips around me, I don't care about it anymore. Her tongue is experienced, her mouth hot, wet and soft, and the best part of it all? No sharp teeth. Morrigan once accidentally bit me and I couldn't perform for days. No danger of that here.

And then something incredibly soft enfolds my rod; her tits, I notice as I prop myself up on my elbows. I'm getting spoiled tonight. Not only does it look hot, it feels maddeningly good too. Saliva runs from the corners of her mouth, slickening the softness around my cock. My arms begin shaking and collapse under her tender ministrations. What a treat. Before long I can feel the typical throbbing, my climax building in my gut.

However, it would seem that my mistress is not just stern, but also very cruel. I can't help but whimper when her skilful mouth and yielding tits leave me. A few clicking sounds and her teeth are back in, Wynne straddled across my midsection.

"Now, now, my dear." She smiles and gives my cheek a motherly pinch. "Don't fret."

I poke out my lower lip in a little pout. "You're mean."

"Is that so?" Her voice sounds teasing. Leaning back on one hand, she spreads her pussy with the other. A small trickle of whitish liquid is coming out of her slit. "Well, then I guess you don't want this."

I swallow away the spit my mouth has produced from watching her cunt drip like that. "Yes, I do! I'm sorry, mistress." Maybe the puppy eyes will work now.

With a chuckle my mistress sits up straight and lowers herself over my cock. This feels just like the time I had sex with a bowl of gelatine pudding. Don't judge me; I was young and curious. The only difference is that this is warm and comes in a prettier package. It's not that it's not nice, it would just feel better if she were only a little tighter. So, vaginal muscles loosen with the years. One learns something new every day.

As if she can read my mind, the aged mage says: "Don't worry, my boy. This is only for lubrication; I know I'm not as tight as I used to be." With that, she slides off my rod, positions it against the entrance to her other orifice. Slowly she guides me into her ass, biting her lip in concentration or pain.

"Wynne... I mean, mistress, you feel so good," I moan. My cock slides in easily, betraying her experience with this particular act. You dirty, dirty woman. I give her breasts a brief squeeze, run my hands down her ribcage, her hips, finally resting on her magnificent rear. Round, soft and voluptuous.

Her ass feels so tight when she moves up and down, softly sighing with each motion. Her eyes are half-closed, a bead of sweat trickling down her blushing face. I must look much the same, sighing along with her and squeezing into her bum. Wynne picks up her pace and begins riding me faster and faster, causing slapping noises whenever our bodies meet. When my orgasm announces itself through the pulsating of my cock, the enchantress reaches one hand forward and quickly rubs her clit with her thumb, fingers buried deep in her cunt.

We come together, both of us biting into our lower lip to keep quiet, my seed expelling itself into her tight, contracting ass. The taste of blood fills my mouth.

I look up at the woman still sitting on my cock and show her my sweetest smile. "Well mistress, have I satisfied you?"

"No, you naughty little thing," she purrs, a hungry glint in her eyes. "Not yet." And so she bends down to viciously attack my mouth with hers.

_Fuck_ , I love older women.

 


	2. Lips Are Sealed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The purposely vague Warden has slept it off and must now deal with the morning after.

I yawn and stretch, my hand brushing against something soft. It's the elderly mage, her hair a mess and a satisfied smile on her face. Why is she...? Slowly last night's events come back to me and my stomach turns. I feel like I've defiled my own grandmother. There are _older_ women, say up to the age of forty-five perhaps (fifty tops) and there are _old_ women, sweet grannies like Wynne. Crap, crap, crap! That's the last time I get drunk. I quickly pull my pants up and race out of my tent to the nearby river.

The sound of sniffling soon reaches my ears. Alistair is standing up to his waist in the water, hands before his eyes. I remove what clothing I'm still wearing and wade over to the other Warden. He freezes when I lay my hand on his shoulder. "Go away," he mumbles, his voice choked up.

Whoa, where's the usual cheer? The comments about me and Morrigan? "Hey man, what's wrong?"

"Oh, it's you." He lowers his hands and looks at me. His eyes are red. "You look sick. Are you all right?"

I shrug. "Meh. What's the matter with you?"

"Well, I uh..." Alistair sniffles. "No, I don't want to talk about it."

Suddenly it all comes back to me. Alistair and Zevran by the fire, kissing passionately. I thought he'd be bummed out about it, but not crying-his-eyes-out-miserable. Now I'm absolutely sure I'm never going to get drunk again. "It's Zev, isn't it? Did he hurt you?"

"You ass!" He weakly punches my arm. "Why didn't you stop me?" His lips are pressed into a thin line, his demeanour utterly miserable.

I awkwardly pat his shoulder, not really knowing how to comfort another man. Were he a woman, I suppose I'd just embrace him. "I'm sorry. I was drunk myself and you two just seemed to really hit it off."

"I know! It seemed like such a good idea at the time, I kept thinking he smelled so nice and it wasn't weird to have his... To have his..." His voice breaks and the boy bursts into tears, throwing his arms around me. Oh, screw it. I might as well hug him back. My arms go around his waist while I whisper that everything will be fine, that I'll get him a nice prostitute the next time we're in Denerim, that I'll fix him up with Leliana, whatever he wants. Not Morrigan though. She's mine.

Eventually his sobbing dies down and he releases me. "Thanks," he mutters. "I feel a little better. But why do you look so crappy?"

"I uh..." I raise my hands in a placating gesture. "Please don't kill me, but I had sex with Wynne."

Alistair takes a quick step back. " _Wynne_? That sweet old woman, _Wynne_?" He shakes his head in disbelief. "Maker, I thought I'd done something stupid and now you go and take the cake. I can never look at you, or her, the same way again!"

"I know, I know. I'm a sick, filthy bastard and I should be shot." I hang my head in shame.

"Hey now..." The other Warden pats my shoulder. "It's not that bad. I mean, you didn't rape her, did you?"

I look into his face and raise my eyebrows. "What do you take me for? Trust me, she was... quite eager." Who'd have thought that old lady would have such a temperament?

"Too much information." He winces dramatically, wrinkling his nose in disgust.

"I'll tell you this though." I utter a deep, deep sigh. "I'm never going to get drunk again."

Alistair nods gravely. "Me neither. Well, I won't tell if you won't." He grins and holds out his hand.

We shake on it. "Agreed. Let's just pretend it never happened."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your interest. Don't be shy and let me know how you feel about all this.


End file.
